


When You Kiss Me (Heaven Sighs)

by mlbee



Series: Running Home to You [8]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Paris - Freeform, Vacation, Weekend Getaway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18433142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlbee/pseuds/mlbee
Summary: A quiet getaway to Paris.





	When You Kiss Me (Heaven Sighs)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the second to last in this series! Thank you to all who keep reading it even though I'm horribly inconsistent at posting updates. Anyway, this was inspired by [these photos](https://www.instagram.com/p/BhMUjJjFZkx/) and is actually one of the first ones I properly wrote for this series. It didn't make sense to me to post it until now, so here it is. Enjoy <3

"I was on the phone with Aleah last weekend and she mentioned that they were going to the south for a week in February," Mikael heard his mother say over breakfast one morning. He was groggy, staring half-seeing into his cereal.

"That will be nice for them. I don't know how they can stand the weather in that city they live in," his father responded.

"Dad, we live in Oslo," Zara said "The weather here is much worse."

"Yes but here we have the harbor, skiing, parks, woods," he continued. "All they have is that dirty river and a few hundred famous buildings."

Mikael snorted, half hearted.

"I don't suppose you'd want to go then?" His mother asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, she mentioned that we haven't been there in nearly 30 years," his mother said. "And since their home will be free, she offered it up to us."

"There's a reason we haven't been there in nearly 30 years," his father said.

"Just thought I'd suggest it," she said, holding her hands up in surrender. "Maybe you'd changed your mind."

"That's unlikely," Zara snorted.

Mikael sat there chewing his cereal with great concentration as his mother continued speaking.

"Fine," she said. "I'll just have to tell her to offer it to someone else."

"Do you--" Mikael asked around a mouthful of cereal. "Do you think she'd let...me, use it?"

His heart was hammering in his chest. He didn't usually ask for things like this, but the idea struck him and he spoke before he could think otherwise.

"You'd want to go?" his mother asked. "You're never shown much interest before. I thought you were like your father in that sense."

“I dunno," Mikael shrugged. "I've never been there before. And...I haven't seen Jonas in a while so I thought...I know he's back in like four months, but...it might be nice to do something nice? Before he comes back for good?" He fiddled with his spoon, shoving soggy cornflakes back and forth before pulling his sleeves over his hands. Endless nerves getting the better of his fidgeting.

When he looked up, his mother's face was soft. "I can certainly ask her," she said.

Mikael felt himself collapse as his breath left his body, "Thanks."

He put his bowl in the sink and wandered to his room, sitting down on his bed as pulled out his phone.

"Come to Paris with me" he typed, heartbeat in his thumbs.

He felt a small smile curl at the corner of his mouth at the mere thought of what he was proposing.

A weekend away in the city of lights with the boy he loved more than he ever thought was possible. His smile stretched and he ran a hand through his hair, laughing at himself for getting so worked up about something that wasn't even real.

His smile only faded when he heard a snort from the doorway.

His head snapped up and he saw Zara standing there, arms crossed, smirking beneath a bright pink hijab.

"You're such a romantic sap," she said.

"Shut up," he said, chucking a pillow at her. It flew through the doorway, narrowly missing her back as she cackled and walked away.

He rolled his eyes right as his phone buzzed, and Jonas's embarrassing contact picture filled the screen.

"Hey," he said rising, putting the phone to his ear and retrieving the pillow.

"What do you mean?" Jonas asked, voice groggy from sleep. Mikael clutched the pillow to his chest and grinned into it at the sound.

"What do I mean by ‘hey’?" Mikael teased, unable to help himself.

"Shut up," Jonas said. Mikael heard a ruffling of sheets and a groan through the phone. "I mean what do you mean about Paris?"

"I mean exactly what you think i mean."

"It's too early to joke about this Mikael," Jonas said. "Don't put fantasies in my head that won't come true."

"I'm not!" Mikael insisted. He could practically hear Jonas's eyebrow raise through the phone. "Okay, I know we've tried to do something like this before and it hasn't worked out. But my mom's cousin and her family live in Paris and they're going to the south of france for a week in february and they offered the house to my parents but my dad hates Paris so they won't go and so I asked if maybe we could use it. So it's not set in stone or anything. But it is an actual possibility."

"Wait, why does your dad hate Paris?" Jonas asked.

"I don't know! He says it's some gross misuse of space and that the French think far too highly of themselves," Mikael said. "That's really the only part of that whole thing that you got?"

"No I just...your dad and I surprisingly have a lot of the same opinions, so I was curious," Jonas said.

Mikael scoffed and rolled his eyes (fondly, of course, because Jonas was adorably insufferable, but it was an eye roll nonetheless).

"But," Jonas continued, "You'd really want to go?"

His voice was soft, unsure, and Mikael felt it in every part of his chest.

"So badly," he admitted.

It had been hard lately. He saw Jonas for Christmas, but now they were in that strange period of time in between the holiday and when he was finished. And Mikael honestly wasn't sure when they were going to see each other again in that time. Oxford wasn't necessarily the easiest place to travel to. And though the weekends with Jonas were great, it often left him more exhausted than he was before. He grew weary from the travel, the relief that he felt when seeing Jonas, when wrapped in Jonas's arms, only made him feel the sharp pain of absence that much stronger.

"I miss you Jon," Mikael said, voice thick with emotion. He swallowed it down, but it didn't escape Jonas's notice.

"I miss you too, Mikky," his voice was soft, less gravelly than before. "I'd give anything to see your face right now."

"Don't say stuff like that," Mikael said, breathing tight. He closed his eyes, remembering the last time he laid in Jonas's bed. They had woken up at nearly the same time, Mikael's face smushed into Jonas's chest to fit into his small bed.

"Sorry," Jonas said. "I know. I just...wish I could kiss you is all."

"Me too."

"But," Jonas said again. "You'd really want to go to Paris with me?"

"I'll go anywhere with you Jon," Mikael said. "But yes, Paris is the most accessible right now, so it's at the top of the list."

Jonas laughed and Mikael smiled at the sound.

"I'll know more about it in a few days," he said. "But even if we can't use the house, let's go. It'll be expensive and ridiculous and stupid, but...I want to do something special with you. Before you're home for good."

"Okay," Jonas said. "Let's do it. A weekend in Paris."

"A weekend in Paris," Mikael repeated, nodding

"You know I hardly remember any of the French I learned in school."

"So what if we're completely out of our element," Mikael said. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I get robbed and then you get pushed into the Seine?"

"I could live with that so long as neither of us dies."

Jonas laughed again, "You're such a dork."

"I am. And you love me for it."

"I do," he said. "I really really do."

They chatted for a bit longer until Mikael had to get ready for work and Jonas was nearly late for class. They chatted intermittently throughout the day, as they always did, and even though Mikael still felt the ache in his chest, it was made slightly better knowing that somehow, in a few weeks, he'd be back with Jonas.

And it all worked. His mom's cousin let them use the house, and before he knew it, he was waiting in Charles de Gaulle for a curly haired boy with a smile he'd know anywhere.

"Hey," Jonas said, sidling up to stand in front of him, backpack slung over one shoulder. He teeth dragged over his bottom lip and Mikael's heartbeat quickened at the sight of it.

"Hey," he all but sighed, relief running through his body.

Jonas chuckled and leaned up slightly to catch Mikael's lips in his own. God, he had forgotten how good Jonas's lips were. They were soft, tasting slightly of toothpaste and the croissant he must have eaten for breakfast. Almost without thinking, his hand came to Jonas's waist, tugging him closer. He felt Jonas smile into the kiss and he deepened it, sucking on Jonas's lip and sighing into his mouth.

Jonas pulled away, laughing, and pressed their foreheads together. "You ready for this?"

"Not at all," Mikael said with a laugh. "Let's go."

He grabbed Jonas's hand and together they took a train, and then the metro, and then another metro, and then walked a bunch, until they finally landed at the doorstep of their temporary home. Mikael punched them in and unlocked the door the spare key they left for them.

"Holy shit," Jonas said when they walked in the door. They were greeted by wide french windows and a stark white kitchen that led into a dove grey living room. "How do they have this much space? I thought you couldn't get space like this in Paris unless you were like, Emmanuel Macron or something."

"I think Abdul works for the embassy?" Mikael said, "I don't really remember. Something political at least."

"This is insane," Jonas said walking further into the apartment.

Mikael watched with a smile on his face as his boyfriend took in the sights. He ran to the window and opened it, letting the cold in and exclaimed that he could see the Eiffel Tower from the window.

"Look!" he said, pointing to his left. Mikael came up behind him, putting a hand on either side of him.

"You're cute you know that?" he said. Jonas turned around between his arms and grinned up at him.

"Am I?" He asked smirking.

“Mhmm," Mikael murmured, taking half a step forward, pressing Jonas back into the balcony. He pressed his lips to the hollow of Jonas's throat, tongue darting out slightly, and felt him shiver beneath him.

"Do you want to go back inside?" Mikael asked.

Jonas nodded up at him with wide, dark eyes.

Mikael smirked and pulled him in, closing the doors behind them before pressing Jonas against the wall between the windows. He covered Jonas's body with his and pressed his cold hands below his shirt. Jonas gasped at the contact, and Mikael gripped tighter, tugging their hips together, lips detaching to suck lightly on the column of Jonas's neck. The younger boy's breath was coming labored as he gasped out "Where exactly....are we sleeping?"

Mikael pulled back, chuckling. "There's a guest bedroom. Which is good. Because I feel really weird about defiling my cousin's bed with gay sex."

"You want to have sex?" Jonas asked.

"Was that not obvious?" Mikael asked, pulling back with a smile.

"No no it was! I mean, sort of, I just..." Jonas trailed off. Mikael looked at him bemused confusion. "I dunno. I'm nervous now all of a sudden."

Mikael's head fell back in laughter, " _You're_ nervous?" he asked, reaching for Jonas. "And I'm the confident one? Damn maybe we should stay in Paris forever."

"Shut up," Jonas squirmed, crossing his arms, "You know what I mean."

"I don't," Mikael teased lightly.

"It's just," he said. "This weekend is special. We're in _Paris_ and it's like, the only sort of getaway we've ever done. And I just...I want you to be happy."

"I'm always happy with you Jonas," Mikael softened, pressing their foreheads together.

"That's not always true."

"Yes it is," Mikael said, forcing Jonas to look at him. "Even when I'm heartbroken about having to leave you, I'm happier than I am with anyone else."

Jonas didn't say anything else, just kissed him lightly before pulling away.

"Soooo," he swung their hands between them. "Do you wanna show me that guest bedroom?"

Mikael laughed again, and pulled him in close, "You're so dumb," he whispered into Jonas's mouth before kissing him and pulling him away to the bedroom.

"So what do you want to see first?" Mikael asked, after. They were laying on the bed, half dressed, and he was tracing patterns across Jonas's bare chest.

"Doesn't matter to me," Jonas said.

Mikael rolled his eyes. "Well you have to pick something. I chose the city so you have to at least choose what we do first."

"Can I choose this again?" Joans teased, kissing Mikael's fingers.

Mikael rolled his eyes again, harder this time, before wrestling his hand out of Jonas's grip. They squirmed and fought until Jonas was on top of him, pinning him into the soft mattress. Mikael's chest heaved and Jonas brushed their lips together, teasing before pulling away, leaving Mikael chasing them. Again, Jonas leaned down, this time, kissing him. and when he pulled away he dragged his teeth across Mikael's bottom lip, just hard enough to make Mikael's hips buck. Jonas's mouth turned smug at that.

He kissed Mikael deeper into the pillow, all tongue and lips, and was just reaching for the waistband of his boxers when Mikael flipped them over, pinning Jonas hands on either side of his head.

"As fantastic as it would be to lay here and kiss you all weekend, I do actually want to see the city. I don't think my family would look too kindly on it if i told them I went to paris and only saw the ceiling of the guest bedroom."

"Ugh, fine," Jonas groaned, rolling out from underneath Mikael. He got off the bed, tugging his jeans on over his boxers. "I guess we'll go see the most beautiful city in the world or whatever."

"That's the spirit," Mikael said with a kiss.

And soon they were off. They wandered aimlessly through residential streets near his cousin's house, until they wound up hungry enough to find somewhere to eat. They did the very french thing of grabbing a sandwich from a boulangerie (with a lot of pointing and broken English communication) and they walked further on. After nearly an hour of walking, they stumbled upon Champ de Mars and wandered down the river toward the Eiffel Tower. They walked to the second level, and Mikael snapped a hundred pictures on his camera. Mostly of Jonas, but also the barren trees, smoking Parisians, french graffiti--anything that caught his eye.

They kept walking up, for another hour or so, and wandered across Pont Alexandre III and Mikael took photos of Jonas against golden statues in the fading daylight.

"This city is fucking huge," Jonas whispered to him as the reached the far end of the Louvre.

"We'll buy a metro pass tomorrow," Mikael said slipping his hand into Jonas's. He nodded and squeezed Mikael's hand before walking slightly ahead of him. Mikael didn't know why it was exactly, because it wasn't a particularly profound moment, but his heart still clenched and he was reminded again of how much he loved this boy.

Before they knew it, it was dark, and their stomachs were grumbling. They ate dinner at a small and too-expensive place not far from the Louvre. And after too much ratatouille and red wine (on Jonas's part), they headed toward the nearest metro stop and headed home.

It was quiet between them. Throughout the day, they had caught up with each other--told stories that didn't translate over the phone, Jonas told him about the progress (and stress) he was making on his thesis, and Mikael explained in greater detail, the job he had gotten and the volunteer work he was doing at the museum. But on the way home, they let the night settle in around them. It was unseasonably warm, and they walked without gloves--fingers interlaced, tugging each other to and fro. They laughed, especially as Jonas led the (wrong) way with his limited French and infinite confidence, and Mikael felt like this was the right decision, to take this weekend with Jonas.

And eventually they were home and Jonas was drunkenly whispering how much he loved Mikael, as if it was a secret he wasn't allowed to tell rather than something he'd said once a day for the past four years. They fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms, bedroom bathed orange from the streetlights outside.

"What's on the agenda today?" Jonas asked the next morning as he stroked hair out of Mikael's eyes.

"The Latin quarter?" he said. "We can sit in the gardens, explore the Pantheon, see all the smart-boy crap that you really like."

"Smart-boy crap," Jonas repeated, as he breathed a kiss against Mikael’s lips. "I'd like that."

The day passed much like the one before: wandering aimlessly, holding hands on the metro, struggling to speak in French and English and getting lots of things wrong. They loved some things they saw, and were surprised by others. They talked about life, history, politics, and anything their minds could think of, all the while taking in the sights while Mikael snapped photos for them to remember.

They saw Notre Dame, kissed in Shakespeare and Co. bookstore after Mikael played the piano, wandered to the Pantheon and ate lunch in the Luxembourg Gardens. They splurged on a nighttime boat tour and ended the day with a late dinner back at the flat. It was simple and honest and Mikael felt completely whole.

The next day they went to Montmartre, seeing Sacre Cœur, visiting Renoir's Gardens, taking pictures of the Moulin Rouge for Even, feeling the vibrancy of the city around them. It was their last day in the city, so they took a metro to Arc de Triomphe at night and enjoyed one last view of the city before calling it quits.

It was emotional, the last night. Mikael felt so good the whole weekend, and he didn't want to be weighed down by the knowledge that they were going to part. But it was there, and he let himself feel it, and he put all that feeling into loving Jonas.

When Jonas was badly singing along to Edith Piaf as he stirred spaghetti, Mikael snuck up behind him, wrapped his arms around his waist, and lightly kissed the back of his neck before pressing his forehead into Jonas's shoulder. And he didn't have to say anything, but somehow Jonas new. He squeezed Mikael's arms in a backwards hug and they sat in the moment until the timer went off and it was time to eat.

That night, they kissed like it was the last time they would ever see each other. They knew it wasn't, that it would only be three more months until Jonas was finished with his thesis and home in Oslo for good. But they wouldn't see each other in that time, not in the flesh, and something about that was bittersweet. So they put every ounce of emotion they had into each other. Pressing kisses across warm skin, teeth teasing, lips caressing. Jonas brushed Mikael's hair back from his face, kissed his eyes in reverence and whispered hushed i love you’s until it seemed to be the only thing he knew how to say.

Strangely, through all the heartache and pain, it was still the happiest Mikael had ever been. He got to spend a beautiful weekend in a gorgeous city with the love of his life. And even though his dad (and Jonas) were partially right and Parisians did think too highly of themselves, the food was overpriced, and the metro was smelly, it was still one of the best weekend's he's ever had. He was eager for the future, where weekends like this could become more frequent, easier to plan. They could visit all sorts of places, and for longer too. He'd get to see the world with the man he loved and he couldn't be sad about that.

So while it sucked saying goodbye to Jonas in the airport, his eyes were dry as he kissed him. Because he knew now that things like this would be possible again. And that frankly, it didn't matter where they went. Just so long as it was the two of them, together, forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! It's more Americanized than I would like, but I can't fault myself too much for that, since I was an American in France for a while. There's only one more story to go! Thanks again for everyone who reads this. Y'all are wonderful. [Come say hi](https://whenispeakicrossmyfingers.tumblr.com/) <3


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